


Nightingale

by Kosho



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Assassination, Awkward Kissing, Blackmail, Dubcon Kissing, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, I'm Bad At Tagging, Kidnapping, Kissing, Leliana is a Tease, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Serial Killers, Surprise Kissing, Tags May Change, Warden Dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2018-12-30 12:41:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12108948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kosho/pseuds/Kosho
Summary: Leliana is the first to meet the survivor of the Conclave. The prisoner looks just like the Warden, lost to the world to stop the Blight, the one woman Leliana really loved. Blinded by the resemblance, she may just miss the signs that their savior is trouble. But, is it her own choice or is someone pulling her strings?





	1. Chapter 1

“Another body...fifth one this week. He's getting more ambitious. This is a problem, the corpses are getting closer to the Conclave. Let the Seeker know. I think the Divine is in danger.” He said, pressing his palm to his brow.

“What makes you think he's going after the Divine?” The scout asked.

“Look at the evidence. The first dozen we found were imperfect. He was perfecting his routine. All the recent corpses have been people with increasing influence. It might not happen, but it looks like our man is building up to something bigger.” He explained.

* * *

  
Cassandra waited outside like she asked. The soldiers meant to protect them sent away. She needed to deal with this one herself. She couldn't afford to be seen as vulnerable for any reason, this was something she needed. The woman began to rouse, clearly startled by the glowing mark on her hand. The Divine was dead, everyone was dead. That was important, the most important, but this mattered too. There had been no information to dig up on her, no trails to follow, a total mystery. Her face though...she looked just like her. How was that even possible? The same white-grey hair, the same style, vivid violet eyes, even the same markings on her face. Everything about this situation felt like a bad dream. Squatting down next to her, the woman took note of her finally.

“What's your name? Is it by any chance Mahariel?” She asked.

“My name? Aelon Lavellan…” she mumbled.

Of course. Too much to hope for anything beyond superficial similarities to her.

“My name is Leliana. I'm here to question what happened at the Conclave.” She said.

“Why? What happened?” Aelon asked curiously.

“Everyone is dead, including the Divine. Anything you could tell me would be useful.” Leliana told her.

“I don't know what happened. All I know is I woke up here, this thing on my hand. The only defense I have is that I certainly couldn't have killed than many people.” Aelon shrugged.

“You are a mage, are you not? I've met few who haven't heard what happened in Kirkwall.” She reminded her.

“Ah, yes, that. You see, as I recall, that was done with actual explosives, not magic. To use magic, one would logically assume they'd have to be within the blast radius. Clearly most are unwilling to die in such a way. I can tell you I know nothing of explosives, and if I did, I wouldn't be here. I do not fear death.” Aelon debated with her.

There was a knock on the door, Cassandra scowling at Aelon, jerking her head in a signal that they needed to hurry up. Leliana sighed, unlocking the shackles, helping her to her feet. Cassandra practically yanked her out the door. Leliana proceeded ahead as instructed, her thoughts wandering away from her. Ten years before, to pinpoint the time. Back to a time when she walked at the side of the Hero of Ferelden.

* * *

It was in Lothering when she first walked into her life. Fresh from being separated from her clan, all the other Wardens she might have come to think of as family gone in a flash, betrayed. Emitha had been understandably withdrawn then, and yet where most had dismissed her beliefs, she had listened patiently, allowed her to follow without judgment. Even with so much going on in her life, she had made time for her, and over time, that friendship and trust had built to something greater. Truly, she thought the Maker had blessed her to have such a wonderful woman at her side, she thought the Blight couldn't last in the face of her love’s strength and devotion to the cause she had been pushed to. In the end, defeating the Archdemon, and by connection, the Blight, her life was taken. The memory of those times they spent together followed her long after. Through everything, the good, and the bad, across the sea to Kirkwall, she would take the time to tell her what she had done, where she was and that she hadn't forgotten her. Now, things were getting strange. A woman so similar it was like looking at her once more had crossed her path, possibly a murderer, they could prove nothing. As much as she wanted to swear it wouldn't affect her work, it already had. To insist on interrogating her alone under the premise of getting results, selfishly it had been to see if she could be related, if she was anything at all like the woman she loved. They were different, and yet that was intriguing enough to fuel her curiosity. The Maker had a poor sense of humor. Aelon was the only hope to save Thedas, and if they'd misjudged her ability, she'd meet a similar fate, but then so would everyone, really. It was unlike her to hope for the safety of a prisoner, to wish for the chance to speak more with her and really see what she was about. Her job was to focus, to know threats ahead of their arrival and guard against them, not to wonder what her favorite flowers were, if she liked to read or any of the other seemingly unimportant questions lingering in her mind. Perhaps the threat of the Breach was worrying her too, and this was her way of coping with the possibility that the world might well end very soon. The world was in an uproar, Templars and mages involved in full scale war, the Wardens missing, more than just the Breach threatening the fragile balance, and all she could think about was one woman. Really, two women. Cassandra wasn't going to be pleased that she got very few, if any answers. Not like she could have done any better, even without this on her mind.

“Leliana, did you hear me?” Cassandra asked.

She hadn't, but hopefully she could take a guess at what she said.

“Yes, whenever she's ready.” Leliana replied.

Aelon kept her focus on the rift, idly spinning her staff at her side. She really wasn't concerned with the outcome. If anything facing down the potential end of the world left her looking completely calm about it. She said she wasn't afraid of death, a statement that left her wondering the reason. With a flourish, she flipped her staff, catching it, her marked hand raised. Not even the demon that dropped from it once it was open gave her pause. Aelon kept that chilling smile, even as her attempt to seal the Breach proved too much for her, out cold for the second time. Maybe it was better to stay away until she sorted things out, let Josie, Cullen and Cassandra deal with her as much as possible, it was a terrible plan. Gathering information was practically her whole job, if she couldn't find out anything about her, she wouldn't be of much use where it might count the most. Leliana knew better than most that this woman could be putting on an act. She could be dangerous, and all she had to go on was her word that she wasn't responsible. Surely she had killed people on less than that in the past, a pretty face shouldn't be enough to sway someone as experienced at these matters as she was. Between her, Cullen and Josephine, she should have been the least susceptible to her, and yet here she was, following closely behind Solas on his way back with her. Of course there were options. If she was a problem for her, the easiest method would be to simply push her towards someone else, someone she might conceivably be interested in. Not a ton of options, most of the men and women that served the Inquisition were both dedicated and about as interesting as dirt. That left Josephine or Cullen. If there was any possibility she was dangerous, she couldn't risk her friend's safety so easily. Cullen had experience with mages, he was strong enough to protect himself as well. Judging by the amount of proposals she had intercepted that were directed his way? He was the obvious choice. The solution to get her focus back on work was absolutely to begin laying the groundwork to get her to notice him and to figure out how to get him to notice she was more interesting, or should be at least, than his work. Leliana could return trying to dig into her life for information in relative peace, and she wouldn't be hanging around with him to keep her attention. Emitha’s memory could remain in the past where it belonged, and there'd be no reason to wonder if the Maker put Aelon in her way for a purpose. That kind of almost fanatical version of herself was long dead, the new Nightingale dealt in secrets, deceptions and danger. Even a brief consideration on the possibility of any kind of romance was absolutely out of the question, to say nothing of love. Cullen had spent his whole life alone, he could certainly use the company more than she could. Naturally this was all on the assumption she was going to wake up this time, and that she could close the Breach...


	2. Chapter 2

Long after Aelon returned from the Hinterlands and the wheels had been set in motion, and still no closer to getting those two to do more than talk business. Josephine wasn’t being helpful either, chatting away at how sweet, how friendly she seemed. She’d bring it up in idle conversation, “She’s an absolutely charming girl. She brought back some Crystal Grace to brighten up my office. Oh, wasn’t the way she wore her hair today simply the cutest?” 

She had no idea how difficult it was to have to be around her as it stood, but to have to hear about her beyond that made it that much more of a challenge. Knowing everything was her business, but when it came to the Herald, it felt like the less she knew, the better. What good would it do to find out she’s practically the same, or worse, fall in love with her. Or if she was nothing like her? Would that even help or would it make it more of a problem? 

Beyond that, she had a tendency to wander off at strange times. She’d have her followed if that didn’t mean she’d have to read more about her. If it happened that she was doing nothing at all, it would seem too much like an invasion of her privacy, although it had crossed her mind that she’d be overlooking something if she was indeed up to something. She was on her way to Val Royeaux with Cassandra, Varric and Solas, plenty of time to make inquiries. Leliana headed for the war room, noticing Josie was already on her way, and Cullen showing up not long after. Josie held up a small pile of letters, the primary source of the work they put into helping out around Ferelden mostly. 

“Josie, what do you think of the Herald?” she asked conversationally. 

“She’s been quite pleasant to work with, and the stories she has from back home are most intriguing.” Josie said. 

Cullen reached for the pile, flicking through each slowly, before pinning some markers to the map, double checking each one ahead of moving to the next. 

“What about you, Commander? You must have some thoughts.” she asked offhandedly. 

He glanced up for a moment, like he was surprised anyone was talking to him. Leliana reached for the letters when he handed them over, sorting them by priority before setting them aside for the Herald’s perusal when she returned - and she would return. Orlais might like her head on a plate, but the chantry wouldn’t want to be the one to take it, all bark, no bite.

“Hm? Oh...She’s...fine, I guess.” he said. 

“Just fine? She’s not even here.” Leliana laughed. 

“Yes?” he said questioningly. “Are you looking for some other answer?” 

“You watch her that often, and you think she’s just fine? You poor thing.” She muttered. 

Really, it was frustrating just how blind he was. As a healthy man, he should have noticed the sway in her step, her perfume, the lingering looks across the table. Instead, he just noticed she was there. Just as well, if he had noticed her, he wouldn’t have a clue what to do with her. She was a difficult read too, it seemed less that the looks she gave him were personal interest and more trying to catch him looking, a rumor she planted for her to hear. She had nothing on that either, there could be any number of circumstances, perhaps she wasn’t interested in anyone, maybe only elves and Solas wasn’t to her taste, maybe she only liked women, or something about Cullen didn’t appeal to her. For all anyone knew it wasn’t outside the realm of possibilities that she might also be married. There was no ring, no indicator of any kind, a sign that she wasn’t, barring something causing her to lose it. There was reason to hope when his cheeks flushed slightly and he looked away at the annoyed comment. “Fine” though he might find her, it was only too obvious that his eyes thought more of her. 

What was she interested in, if anything? No, she shouldn’t even be asking such questions. Thinking too much about it would only make her a liability. Distractions are how people die, what gets good people killed. It could be argued that would be the same for Cullen too, but his men were well equipped to function without guidance if needed, they could take a few dozen more hits than her spies would. Whether she was beginning to like the Herald herself, or the memory she made her relive, she couldn’t yet say, but whichever it was was still a distraction and not something she could explore any further. It really would be satisfying to know where it was she kept running off to though…

There was no pattern to it, so it could legitimately be that she was simply wandering off to think or just to get some space. The only really odd thing was the way she’d occasionally stop whatever she happened to be doing and turns quickly like she hears something that just isn’t there to hear, not enough to go on, and not really a certainty that there was anything interesting at all to learn from it. There was a razor thin line to walk between caution and fixation. At some point if she wasn’t careful, she could completely miss something important, something overlooked if she leaned too much one way.

Cullen’s prolonged sigh pulled her from her thoughts, looking for the cause. He spared her the digging this time. 

“Another three murders, just in the last month alone…” he mutters. “Probably had it coming, but still…”

“Do you think we should put some guards on the Herald?” Josie asked. 

Cullen shrugs, then nods. 

“It would be wise to guard her while she’s here at least. I’m not certain my men are careful enough to tail her without being noticed, and I’d really rather not resort to watching her so closely without her consent.” he said. 

Her spies would be the better option when she left camp, and beyond that, they don’t worry about what the person they’re assigned to thinks or feels about being watched. Beyond that, they wouldn’t be as likely to lose track of her as his soldiers would. Scout Harding might be a good option, largely silent movement, a watchful eye, and a peerless knowledge of the land all in one. 

“I’ll put Scout Harding on it. She’s familiar to the Herald and has to arrive ahead of her when she leaves most of the time anyway, to apprise her of anything she needs to know about the regions she travels to. If by some chance she gets caught, she likely wouldn’t question her presence enough to confront her over it. 

“Is that really necessary?” Cullen sighed. “There has to be an option better than spying on her in case a killer might want to come after her.” 

“At best, the Herald of Andraste title is more symbolic than influential. I doubt she has much to worry about, now that I consider it. Didn’t it say the killer only goes after certain people, mostly minor lords and other nobles. Aelon is neither a recognized Lady or nobility, she doesn’t really fit the bill, though I do agree, extra security for her around the camp is a good idea. 

Leliana reluctantly agreed with that assessment. Perhaps she wasn’t in danger, but it was still possible that as someone considered very nearly holy herself, that might be more prominent a title to go after. She’d probably still send Scout Harding, but perhaps that needed a little thought first.


	3. A Silverite Tongue and Lyrium Lips

Leliana stared at the reports from her recent trip to Val Royeaux, having taken off almost immediately after her presence was requested. She’d returned with newcomers in tow, and according to Cassandra, the trip had been rather uneventful. None of her spies reported anything unusual, save for a moment at Madame de Fer’s gathering where she was seen talking to a masked figure, and looking rather upset about it. That was strange, sure. Still, it wasn’t anything that concretely suggested she was in any current danger.. She’d done well to stay away from her as much as she was able to, and she knew at present, she was in the war room discussing the possibility of recruiting the Templars, trying to decide the best way of getting their attention. As a mage, she was certain that she’d want to at least meet with the mages, Emitha had been so sympathetic to the circle mages it was hard not to expect Aelon to want that too. 

 

She sighed, shaking thoughts of her out of her head until she walked in to deliver the reports. They sat side by side, staring at each other like they had been discussing something fairly serious. Perhaps her work had paid off and they were talking about each other, ducking in the doorway out of view since they hadn’t taken note of her. 

 

“I can’t get over it.” Cullen said, shaking his head. 

 

“What?” she asked, examining the map as if that might provide a clue to what he was referring to. “I don’t see it.” 

 

“You.” he said. 

 

_ Finally. _ He finally figured out she was different from him, lady bits and all that. Or at least that was what Leliana thought. 

 

“What about me?” she asked hesitantly. 

 

“You look so much like the Hero of Ferelden, it’s really uncanny. I can’t believe I hadn’t made the connection before.” he said. 

 

“You know. You’re not the first to say that actually. I really couldn’t say, I didn’t know her.” she said with a quiet chuckle. 

 

“If I had to make a guess, it had to be Leliana right?” he asked. 

 

“How did you know?” she wondered. 

 

“Oh. She hasn’t mentioned it? I suppose it’s probably not my place to say…” he trailed off. 

 

Sighing, she stepped into the room properly. She’d listened in long enough to know she wasn’t interrupting anything serious. Dropping the reports on the table, she eyed the map to avoid looking right at her. 

 

“She was my love.” she said a little more coldly than she meant to. “For the record, you do look strikingly similar.” 

 

“It’s eerie how you do that. I didn’t even hear you enter.” Aelon said. 

 

“You get used to it.” Cullen told her dryly. “Has there been any word from your men in regards to the Templars?” 

 

Glad for the topic change, she gave a slight nod. “I have. They’ve hold up in Therinfal Redoubt for some reason. I tried the direct route this time, and my spy was sent away with the understanding that there would be no discussion. Despite what was reportedly said in Val Royeaux, he does appear to have some interest in her, however he’s not at a point to speak with her personally. The door opened again, and Josie set down a cup of tea, receiving an almost bothered look at the absence of other cups. 

 

“Apologies. I thought she needed it more than you.” she said as politely as she could. “If I may, I couldn’t help but overhear you on my way in. I had a thought that perhaps a small display of importance could change their minds. I could get word out to some of my contacts, and she could --” 

 

“No.” Cullen said immediately. “All the nobles in Thedas won’t make a difference, Templars aren’t allowed to seek out wealth or influence.” 

 

“They’re not exactly supposed to separate from the Chantry either, but they’ve done that.” Leliana said. “I say we give it a try.” 

 

Aelon glanced blankly between the three of them. Cullen would have more insight into them, but Leliana had a point too. They had already shown a willingness to shrug off their chains, what would stop them from chasing what they weren’t supposed to have? 

 

“Go for it.” she said bluntly. “Worse thing that could happen is I have to deal with a bunch of snobs for a few hours, right? I could do plenty of things with my time, if this proves to be productive this won’t be the worst use of it.” 

 

Cullen heaved a heavy sigh at that, pinching the bridge of his nose. He stood up, heading for the yard, presumably wanting to get a head start on informing a small group of his men that if it panned out, they’d be tagging along. Josephine gave a satisfied nod, leaving to get started on penning her letters, leaving Leliana alone with her for probably the first time in weeks. She sat on the edge of the table, staring at the wall intently. 

 

“It bothers you, doesn’t it?” Aelon asked quietly. “Though I’m not sure if it’s just my face or that I’m probably nothing like the woman you remember.” 

 

Leliana stiffened at that, finally turning her attention to her. “That hardly seems relevant right now.” 

 

“That’s a lie. You’ve been avoiding me. You don’t want to be around me.” she said observantly. 

 

She’d hit it right on the nose. Emitha was like that too, barely needed but a minute or two to figure out exactly what was troubling her. More and more, as much as she hated admitting it, but she was noticing that Aelon was more like Emitha than she was comfortable with. 

 

“I suppose there’s little point in denying it.” Leliana sighed. “It is a bit hard to be around you. It’s not really your fault.” 

 

“It’s a smart thing. I may not have blown up the Conclave or killed the Divine, but my hands are far from clean. You might be better off staying away.” Aelon said into her tea, taking a sip. 

 

“And you think mine are? I can handle my own protection.” she laughed, caught off guard by the serious warning. “I’m not worried.” 

 

“You should laugh more often. It sounds nice.” she said. “Look, I can’t help it if my face is like hers. Still, if there’s anything I can do, feel free to ask.” 

 

Leliana was ready to deny it, but she couldn’t help the curiosity springing through her. “Do you like reading? What about flowers?” 

 

Aelon shifted her position, drawing her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “I love reading. I like to learn about places I’ve never been, things I’ve never done. Flowers make me sneeze, but I like them fine.” 

 

“You don’t talk about yourself often. What about your family, you must miss your clan. You must have someone waiting for you?” she asked, a far more personal question than she intended to ask. 

 

“I miss them terribly.” she said, her expression darkening like it bothered her to think about it. “If you’re asking if I’ve bonded yet, I haven’t.” 

 

As a principle, contact had already been made with her clan, if only to let them know that Aelon was fine, and unharmed, that she’d be in contact with them when she found the time, enough to satisfy her Keeper, but there was something about the topic that bothered her. 

 

“Has something happened? You look upset.” she wondered. 

 

Aelon bit her lip, staring at the map like it had personally offended her. “My brother went missing two seasons ago, and I’ve been trying to find him.” 

 

That would certainly ruin anyone’s mood. Still, that much felt familiar too. Emitha had a younger brother she worried about leaving behind. Aelon didn’t look all that old on her own, she had to imagine he was also younger. 

 

“Tell me about him?” she asked, taking a seat across from her. 

 

“Arien is his name. He’s nearly six.” she said. “He likes birds., and watching the halla. Wants to be a hunter…” 

 

Much younger than Emitha’s brother, by Dalish standards, he was old enough to start learning, but not enough to be without someone watching him. She didn’t get a chance to ask about it. 

 

“It’s my fault. I was supposed to watch him. There were bandits near the camp, and someone took him.” she said. 

 

He might be dead. If it had been that long, the odds of that being the case were fairly high. An elven child would have either been sold into slavery, as far away as Tevinter, or killed for no reason other than feeling like it. It wasn’t a hopeful picture, but that didn’t change the fact that she didn’t want to suggest it. Instead, she opted to stay silent. Aelon finished her tea, dropping her legs back to the floor and standing up. Leliana’s job entailed knowing when someone was lying. No point in making something up, and if she could help it, she had no intention to say a word about where she was going or what she was doing. No need to give her cause to keep a closer eye on her. Before she got too far, however, she felt a slight pull on her wrist. Leliana stopped her from going, a look on her face like she couldn’t even begin to explain why she had, but which also seemed to suggest that she simply wasn’t able to let go just yet. Aelon sighed to herself. Perhaps there was only one way to handle this, and it wasn’t the greatest. In fact, it was probably likely to end with a blade in her chest as it was to accomplish anything worthwhile. 

 

Then again, at least then it would put an end to all of her problems. Not an ideal end to her night, but it was some sort of silver lining. Moving quickly, she clutched her face, surprising her into letting go. Violet eyes stared into hers like she was trying to peer into her soul. She couldn’t get over how soft her hands felt, or explain the sudden rising rate of her heart. She’d long thought she had severed the connection, but this whole situation only served to remind her it was still there, not for lack of trying, she could still feel like this. Aelon smirked slightly, letting go. Leliana turned the tables on her, her hand snagging the back of her neck, bringing her down into a hasty kiss, lasting only seconds before she let go, shaking her head furiously. 

 

“I don’t know what came over me. I should go.” she muttered. 

 

“I’m not upset, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Aelon shrugged. “Still, I’ll save you the trouble, it  _ is _ rather late.” 

 

Flustered, Leliana turned to arrange the paperwork, and Aelon used that as her chance to slip away. Counting on her renewed attempt to avoid her, she seized the opportunity to return to her room. 

 

Aelon had work to see to, the last thing she needed was unwanted attention on her way out of the village. She took a path that went almost completely ignored by the guards, a situation she’d have been more than happy to point out to Cullen to remedy if she hadn’t been using it herself. She’d have to be faster than normal, Redcliffe wasn’t far, but it was busy, even at night. This was going to be a bit more challenging than she was comfortable with, and none of it was comfortable to begin with.


	4. The Weight of Our Sins

Aelon reached Redcliffe in good time, stopping far enough outside the gates to avoid being seen. No good if people recognized her and made mention of it. She swept her hair back, tying it into a tight bun, stripping out of her robes to change into something more plain. In truth, she’d swiped it out of the house next to hers in Haven, tucking the unremarkable dagger against her leg, well concealed under the loose clothes. Tossing on a hat, she sighed. This wasn’t her area of expertise, and the constant need to cover her tracks and stay clean, stay calm, all of it was much more stressful than she liked. Still, as much as it was something she wanted no part of it, she was improving greatly. She slowly wandered the busy village, even in the dead of the night, it felt alive. Sweeping her tongue across her too dry lips, she froze for just a moment. 

It occurred to her anew what exactly had happened. Leliana had kissed her, and if she hadn’t completely imagined it, for just a moment, she was returning it. That was trouble she didn’t need. The goal was to keep the heat off her, and that was not the way to go about it. She would be very tempted to look into her business all the more now, wouldn’t she? A smaller part of her had different ideas, however. Part of her, probably the same part that was realizing this wasn’t going to end any time soon, thought that maybe getting even closer was just the thing to do. Blind her to the realization that any of this was connected to her. 

“I can’t do that…” she mumbled finally, to herself. “I won’t do that. Ever.” 

She slid around the back unnoticed, testing the door. It was, of course locked. Picking a lock was beyond her skill, but the open window? Might as well be a damned invitation. Aelon held on, pulling herself up and in, noting the darkness. Perfect. Probably asleep, this would be a simple matter, in and out without a problem. Seeing in the dark was a simple matter, in the worst of times, the clan moved and hunted under cover of darkness to avoid detection, and her eyes had come to adjust without trouble. Noting the presence of stairs, it was safe to assume her target wasn’t nearby. At first, stairs were a daunting and nerve wracking thing, the tiny, aching creak sounding much louder in her panic stricken mind, a sound that set her heart pounding in a painful way. Now, she walked much lighter, hardly a ghost of a shadow, stopping at the top to relieve herself of the weapon, the hard leather digging into her ankle, a punishment that in no way was enough to clear her conscience of the deed. Scanning the room, she saw her target, sleeping easily in bed. A woman this time, not great. Most of her targets had been men, a link well publicized. 

A woman seemed like trouble, but then, perhaps it would be assumed the killer had simply decided to switch it up. Sighing, she flexed her fingers, rolling her shoulders like she was preparing instead to be on the receiving end of a soldier’s charge in training, rather then about to snuff out the last flames of a dying candle. She tossed her pack to the side as quietly as she could, springing into action. Her hand shot out to cover the woman’s mouth, slipping to straddle her torso to keep her in place. Her eyes flared open, staring up at her in alarm. She hated that most of all, the bit where they looked right at her, like the accusing finger of an angry god, her shame and guilt on full display. Forcing her head back against the pillows, her mouth still tightly covered, she made a quick sweep across her throat, not moving her hand away until she felt her going still. 

That was a mistake she’d made a time or two before, nearly got caught with the assumption the deed was done as soon as she made the cut, only to find a few were still plenty alive and attempted to make a racket before they finally died. Aelon climbed off, burying the dagger in her chest, a signature of sorts, both a signature and a subtle hint to anyone looking into it. If she hadn’t thought getting caught wouldn’t result in Arien’s death, she might well have left a lengthy note of explanation, but it was more likely only to get her in trouble, and not at all help in saving her brother. ‘Bandits’ she had said, but in truth, he was taken by a man who intended to turn his captives over to slavers. Against all hope, she begged for a way to get him back, swore she would do whatever it took. The man agreed, and as such had held onto her brother, or at least claimed to. This was the bargain, kill for him, stop, and he died, get caught, and he’d sever all contact, and he would die. A lot was riding on her success at covering her tracks. No blood on her clothes, save for the gloves, and a bit on her shirt. It was lost in the dark fabric for the most part, she could buy enough time to get out of Redcliffe before she changed back into her own clothes at least, but the gloves needed to go right now. 

Peeling them off, she set them on fire in the basin, washing down the ashen remains when the last had burned away. She grabbed her bag, taking her time on the stairs, exiting back through the window, climbing up the ridge. No one seemed to notice, no hint of suspicion. Satisfied with that, she stopped again to change, burning the stained clothes in the dirt and grinding them in before she headed back to Haven. The silence of the walk back was probably the worst part. Having to walk with only her thoughts, the lingering guilt of what she had done hanging heavy on her. Otherwise, an uneventful trip, managing to sneak back in and get to bed without a hitch, though the sun would rise soon. She was going to be dead on her feet with maybe two or three hours to actually sleep, but she’d get over it. Beyond that, in her mind, the price was worth the promise of her brother’s safe return. This time, she was promised proof that he was unharmed, a letter, though she was trying to work up to getting to see him. Likely nowhere near where he was being held. He was no fool, he knew better than to tell her how to get to him, the game would end and he’d lose his bargaining chip. Still, knowing he was alright was enough to keep her dancing to his tune, for now, she was no closer to finding him, but that would soon change if she had her way.


End file.
